The Chronicles of Albert Wesker
by TJAndJenniJo
Summary: When Albert Wesker is ousted by Umbrella, he turns to the one person he would have never dreamed of. And, of course, hijinks ensue. ENJOY! RR!


Disclaimer: Don't own Capcom or anything else we parody here.

A/N: This was written by me and Jenni Jo. This idea sorta happened one night, after a few drinks, when we were trying to think of some humorous story to apply to Wesker. Try to laugh as best as you can. We do. Anyway, Jenn and I have played RE4 and we're just guessing that this could have possibly happened at the end of the game.

* * *

The fall of Umbrella came as a shock to everyone. Their stock crashed sending millions into frenzy. The country was lost as it tried to pick up the pieces of its shattered economy. But there were those who wanted Umbrella to succeed at any and all costs. One of the more pro-Umbrella agents was a man named Albert Wesker. 

Wesker, at one time, was the Captain of the famous S.T.A.R.S branch of the Raccoon City Police Department. His alliance went unnoticed until the terrible Spencer Mansion incident of 1998. From that time on he was a menace to society. Years passed as Wesker tried his best to resurrect the floundering company. He even went as far as to team up with Ada Wong in an attempt to steal organisms named Plagas: a mind altering parasite that had the capability to enslave human beings.

Unfortunately Wesker underestimated the attractive, yet mildly whore-like Wong. Once the mission was complete Ada turned, selling him out to Dr. Jonathan Ashford, a descendant of the founding fathers of Umbrella. Believing that the former S.T.A.R.S. captain was a double agent for the Resistance, a contract was placed on his life. Cornered in Albert Wesker had no where to run and nowhere to hide.

It was purely by coincidence that Wesker ran into his arch enemy on a crowded street in Chicago, Illinois. The sun glassed, blonde haired man was mistaken for a beggar as he approached his nemesis.

* * *

"Redfield!" 

Chris Redfield paused upon hearing his name. He turned quickly to see a homeless man standing behind him. A horrible stink attacked his senses and Redfield took a step backwards, trying to maintain a polite stance.

"Do I know you?" he asked, blinking.

"Of course, Redfield. How dare you forget me?" the beggar growled then paused to cough wetly, clutching his tattered Army coat around him.

Chris' eyes shifted around uneasily. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I don't have any change. My wife is trying to keep me from smoking so when I have the urge to light one up I have to put a quarter in the"

"Stop rambling! Look into my eyes!" the other man demanded.

"I can't. You're wearing sunglasses." Chris paused, and then gasped. "Oh my good God, Wesker! Is that you?"

Albert Wesker tried to laugh but began coughing again. "Yes… it is I." he controlled himself. "I have to talk to you."

Redfield's eyes narrowed. "And I have to kill you." His hand went for a pistol that was concealed under his jacket. "But let's see how many words you get out before I blow your head off."

"No!" Wesker said quickly. "This is very important. But what I have to say is not for prying eyes. Can we go somewhere more private?"

"Like where?"

"Somewhere with steak," Wesker caught Chris' glare. "Or a bench. Ya know, with a hot dog stand around." Chris continued to stare. "I haven't eaten in three days. Have a heart, Redfield! Have a heart!"

* * *

The two ex colleagues found themselves sitting at a small bench at the Navy Pier. Out of sheer pity Chris had purchased Wesker a large coke and chili dog, which the older man had wolfed down in record time. During his lunch, Albert had outlined his last dealings with Umbrella and the chaos that had ensued. 

Chris listened carefully, almost not believing his ears. He voiced his opinion. "And why should I believe you? How do I know this isn't just one of your plans to slit my throat when I'm not looking?"

Wesker polished off his meal and licked his fingers for final mustard stains. "Look at me Chris. I've been sleeping in alleys for six months. You know I could have shown up at your house and killed you in your sleep. But I need your help. So I won't."

"I smell a bargain coming up. That or you haven't showered for a week."

"Both, actually." Wesker sighed. "You know I have crucial information regarding what is remaining of Umbrella. I will share that knowledge with you if agree to one simple task."

"I'm listening." Chris replied stonily.

"I need a place to crash."

Chris Redfield laughed. It was a full on belly laugh that caused him to double over while holding his sides. Wesker looked at him distastefully. "If you really think it's that funny I'll take my data else where. I am sure _Carlos_ would be happy to put it to use."

"No!" Redfield became serious suddenly. "Anyone but Carlos. Guy's always looking at Jill, talking all… with that accent."

"She is a beautiful woman." Wesker commented as both stopped to think about Mrs. Redfield. "But, in all seriousness Chris, I've seen the error of my ways. I want to fight on the side of good and right the wrongs that I've done. Please, help me, I don't have anyone else."

Chris settled back in his seat, mulling over his decision. He looked at his former boss, then out at the lake in front of him. What would Jill think? Hell, what would anybody think? To invite the devil into your home and allow him to live there was almost a crime. On the other hand, Wesker's story seemed to check out. He appeared as if he had no place other to go and smelled as if the street had been his home. Redfield also bought the story of him knowing where he lived and the decision not to murder him.

Slowly Chris sighed. "Follow me."

* * *

Jill Redfield stood at her stove in her luxurious kitchen, stirring a simmering pot of sauce. Behind her sat a beautiful table that was decorated to the hilt with garnishments. Beautiful candles sat at the center of the table that was set for two. China plates and champagne glasses were placed at each end of the table while a vase filled with wildflowers was poised at the center. 

The young woman was wearing a carefully draped apron over her clothing. She looked the picture of perfection in a knee length Ann Taylor dress with her hair carefully curled. The only jewelry she sported were diamond studs, a present from her husband, and her large engagement and wedding ring set on a left hand finger.

The timer on the stove beeped and Jill removed the sauce before cautiously pouring it into a large pan of steaming spaghetti. She set down the saucepan and transferred the spaghetti to the dinning table. As if on cue her front door opened and Jill swept off the apron, tossing it on top of the counter. She hurried to the front room a smile on her beautiful face.

"Chris, you're right on time! I was just," she stopped, suddenly. "Um, hello?"

Chris looked at his wife and set down the dirty trash bags he was carrying. A figure stepped out from behind him, still pushing an older model bicycle, complete with a basket filled with pop cans. From under a dirty beard, the other man smiled.

"Jill. How lovely to see you!" he rasped.

Jill plastered on a fake smile. "Chris, we have company on our anniversary. Who would this be?"

"Jill, dinner smells great!" the stranger exclaimed, propping his bike against a wall. "What did you make?"

"An anniversary dinner—OH MY GOD WESKER!" she exclaimed, backpedaling with one hand to her throat.

Chris stepped forward. "Jill, it's alright. Let's just go in the front room for a moment."

Jill nodded her eyes still fixed on the man that had caused more trouble and heartache than could be conceived. Her husband took her elbow gently and led her from the room. As soon as they were out of earshot Jill pulled from Chris' grasp and turned on him, eyes blazing.

"What the hell is going on!" she spat. "Why is Wesker in my home?"

"Just relax." Chris began to recite the story. By the end Jill looked like someone had punched her in the gut.

She looked out at the kitchen to see Wesker raiding the fridge, stuffing various items of food into his mouth. She sighed heavily at his appearance and appetite. He seemed a mere shadow of his former, evil self. Even though the man had tried to tear apart her family and friends for years, Jill Valentine-Redfield felt a little shame for his situation.

She leveled her eyes back at her husband. "There's a room in the basement next to the washer and dryer. He'll pay rent, do his own dishes and laundry." She exhaled slowly. "So much for our anniversary dinner, huh?"

Chris gathered Jill up in a hug. "We have a downstairs bathroom. I'll send him down to get cleaned up while we eat. Or we could go out."

"Nah. I just spent two hours fixing a meal for us. Plus, I don't really trust that… thing in my house without me here. Just tell him to go take a shower and we'll try to have a nice evening."

"I love you so much." Chris kissed the top of Jill's head before releasing her.

"Love you." She echoed before taking a seat on the couch. "Love you too."

* * *

"Hey, Wesker, did you want—What the hell!" 

Albert Wesker was hunched over Jill's spaghetti, staring at Chris with a deer in the headlight stare. His hands were covered in sauce and noodles as were his unkempt face. He slowly stood fully and stepped away from the table.

"What?" he blinked and licked his fingers. "I'm hungry. Been living on the streets, Redfield."

"Argh! That was me and Jill's anniversary dinner." Chris rolled his eyes and sighed. "You can stay downstairs in the basement bedroom. It's not more than a cot and a bookshelf but there's a bathroom. Go bathe and let us enjoy some peace and quiet. There are some old clothes of mine in the closet next to the stairs. They should fit."

Wesker's concealed eyes brimmed with thankfulness. "Thank you, Redfield. I never thought I'd say that."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Chris gestured toward the basement door. "Hurry up and get your ass out of here before Jill sees what you've done with her meal."

Wesker scurried away and quickly exited to the basement. Chris shook his head before turning back to the ruined plate of food. He tried his best to cover up the hole in the dish but it still looked lopsided. Growling Chris threw down his fork and turned to see his wife staring at him.

"Dinner is served." Chris said with a smile.

* * *

"…and then Leon freaks out and starts bashing the radio with his shoe. I wish you could have been there baby." 

Jill Redfield smiled at her husband as they made the best of their anniversary meal. Despite the sudden intrusion the two were having a good time as they exchanged anecdotes about their day. Her favorite stories were those that contained Leon S. Kennedy and his wife Claire, who happened to be Chris' younger sister. The Kennedys' lived a couple blocks down and always seemed to be running into hilarious trouble.

"Does that happen every time he hears a song in Spanish?" Jill asked disbelievingly, taking a bite of her French bread.

Chris snorted. "Better than the time he attacked Carlos while he was on the phone with his cousin. All I could make out was 'Won't take me alive'. But that man's got one helluva left hook."

Jill laughed, staring at her husband adoringly. The two had been married for nearly four years now and although they'd had their differences, no other couple was as well suited for one another as they were. And now, as Chris sat basked in candlelight, Jill felt herself falling in love with him all over again. It was so romantic.

"…_Feel like.. dun dun dun… feel like making love!"_

The off key singing drifted up from below the kitchen, breaking any sort of mood. Jill exhaled loudly and rolled her eyes. Chris pushed away from the table and stood. He began to clear the dishes. Jill followed with a frown on her face.

"The death threats, the attempts made on our lives I can excuse but not that!" Jill hissed, throwing the plates into the sink.

Chris was at a loss for words. He tried to comfort his wife as best he could and then decided there was only one avenue down. "I bought you something." He said with a grin.

"Really?" she asked hopefully.

Chris reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. "That's where I was when I bumped into Ass Face. I saw it and it just reminded me of you."

"Aw, Chris, that's so sweet!" she purred and opened the box to reveal a sterling silver bracelet.

On the inside of the bracelet was engraved an inscription: _To the woman who has stood beside me at the gates of Hell. I love you, Christopher._ Jill's tears fell freely and she pulled her husband into a kiss. They stood there, enjoying each other for the longest time until they heard the fridge open. The Redfields jumped apart and wheeled around to see Wesker leaning into the fridge. He was wearing a pair of Chris' sweatpants, socks, and an old S.T.A.R.S. sweatshirt with the name _REDFIELD_ emblazoned on the back.

"Can I help you?" Jill asked irritably.

"Oh go on about your business." Wesker said with a smile. "I was still kind of hungry."

Chris' jaw set. "We were busy. Go watch TV. There's my old television downstairs if you wanna try to get a signal in." he blinked. "You took off your sunglasses."

Wesker shrugged. "Yeah. I've decided that if I need to leave my past in the past, then I have to start cleaning up my image. Since I'm not getting my regular injections from the company my eyes have gone back to their original color."

"Great to hear that." Chris snapped. "Now, could you go away?"

"Sorry, so sorry." Wesker apologized, stepping backwards. "I'll just go back down to my basement. It's nice down there with the mice. You guys have a good evening."

With that Wesker departed, leaving Chris and Jill looking after him.

* * *

The weeks passed slowly and with a tedious nature. Once Leon and Claire had learned of Wesker they'd went on high alert, stopping by two or three times a day to check on their brother and sister in law. Wesker did his best to blend in with his "family". He tried, unsuccessfully, to hold game nights and movie nights. Chris and Jill respected his attempts but politely declined every time. To show his appreciation even more Albert took up a job teaching Karate at the local Y.M.C.A. It worked out wonderfully for him. And he didn't mind bringing it up.

* * *

"Hey, Jill, what's going on?" 

Jill Redfield was poised in her favorite recliner enjoying a glass of wine and a well written book. She looked up at the speaker and annoyingly placed her bookmark in the literature.

"Oh, nothing Wesker. What are you doing?" she replied as nicely as she could.

Wesker walked into the room, wearing his gui from the Karate class he taught. He took a seat next to Jill. "Oh, just getting ready to go down to the Y. Gonna teach my class tonight. Ya know, it's a great thing, teaching those kids. They really love it." He laughed wholeheartedly. "Do you like kids, Jill?"

"Yeah, Wesker, I like kids." Jill said testily.

"Yeah, those little buggers, they really know how to keep ya goin'." He laughed again. "You should come down sometime, check it out. It's a great thing, the Y. It really keeps families together in times of need. The parents can drop the kids off at a quality day care while they exercise and afterwards everyone can go out to dinner together. Just wonderful!"

"Yeah, that sounds great."

"It is great! Man, I get a kick out of those kids. You should come down sometime Jill. You've got some great moves. I bet they could really learn a lot from you. Some kicks and some punches, it'd only take a half hour. I bet that a lot of kids would really look up to you, since you're a female with a lot of power and beauty." He paused. "You smell nice, Jill."

"Uh, thanks Wesker." She looked at her watch. "Oh! Look at the time! You're going to be late for your class. Better get goin'. Don't wanna keep your kids waiting."

Wesker stood and shouldered a workout bag. "Yeah, they'd be so disappointed. I'll see you later Jill. And say hi to Chris for me."

"Will do Wesker."

With that Wesker departed, off to teach another class at the Y.M.C.A.

_To Be Continued..._


End file.
